Forced
by sangre antigua
Summary: Behind Fangtasia, Bentley Miller had the worst night of his life. He was not only almost killed by a vampire, but he was killed by another. Eric/Original Male Character, SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

**Author:** sangre antigua.

**Rating;** **Title; Pairing:** M; Forced; Eric/Original Male Character.

**Summary:** Behind Fangtasia, Bentley Miller had the worst night of his life. He was not only almost killed by a vampire, but he was killed by another. Eric/Original Male Character, SLASH.

**Warning/Disclaimer:** I do not own Eric or _True Blood_. But the plot and everything is mine. (:

Sorry it's so long. XD

- - -

Bentley Miller watched the clock like he always did, leaning against the front desk with his head balanced in the palm of his right hand. His shift was done at 9:15PM and it was 8:45PM already, but time seemed to have frozen. Customers shuffled in the back of the store, flipping through racks of clothes, checking sizes and styles and patterns, but the needles on the clock seemed to be stuck. Glued to the face of the clock, making his palms sweaty and his brain foggy.

The last half hour of work was hell, especially since the vampires had come out of the coffin. The store used to close down for the night at 9:30PM and open again at ten o'clock the next day, but with the vampires out in the open like "normal people", the owner (being the liberal son-of-a-bitch she was) changed the store hours and hired on a whole slew of vampire employees. At 9:15, a vampire girl came in to start her shift.

Several times, he had tried to close down the store, forgetting that they had another...pool of customers soon to be arriving.

The store was eerie at that time. The AC came on and made the store extremely cold, colder than the store during the daylight hours in the summertime. Bentley didn't dislike vampires, but he didn't like being in the store when they shopped, either. Some of them stared at him funny and asked him questions that were just...weird. Like if the shirt matched their eyes, or complimented their figure. But the questions were more than that. Their smiles were lopsided and almost hungry, it seemed. Like they had ulterior motives, which he knew they did.

He was off, so he usually just smiled awkwardly, told them what they wanted to hear, and bolted. Employees had to be friendly at the store even if they weren't on the clock, but no one ever said anything about cutting the conversation short. Sometimes, when the clock finally struck 9:15, he would rip off his vest and run for the back room, even if Lea, one of his vampire co-workers, wasn't there yet. His boss yelled at him constantly for it, but what was he supposed to do? He wasn't getting paid for her being late. Despite having his head bitten off, Bentley was almost always half undressed by the time he was standing in front of the lockers. That helped sometimes, but usually they smelt him anyway. Smelt the way his stomach got tight as he walked by. Smelt his fear and the eagerness welling inside of his body.

Today, though, he had to wait until Lea was inside the building to clock out. If he didn't, he'd lose his job. At the thought, Bentley grumbled. Lea better be on time.

"Something wrong?"

Snapped out of his trance, Bentley shuffled quickly to regain his composure, damn-near hitting his chin on the desk before him. He flushed softly and searched out the origin of the words. An elderly woman, looking to be nearly seventy, was smiling at him, half amused, half worried. "Excuse me?" he laughed softly.

"You're staring at that clock like you want it to explode," she chuckled. "Why the long face?"

He shifted and laughed again. The woman had graying hair and wrinkled skin, but something about her radiated. Maybe it was her smile, or the light tan that swept over her from head to toe. "I'm ready to get off work," he replied simply. "I work too many hours, y'know. Never get to have a life, myself."

She clicked her tongue and wagged her finger. He had known the woman for less than a minute and was already infatuated with her. She seemed like she'd be the type of grandmother or parent to be very hands on and comical. The kind every kid dreamed of having. "Teenagers need to get out there. Be kids while they can. Your teenage years are meant for school and exploration. You have the rest of your life to work."

If only it were that simple. Bentley had to work, whether he wanted to or not. It wasn't some ploy to get some cash in his pocket. It was a way of getting food on the table. In a shabby apartment about an hour's walk from the store, Bentley lived with his father and his little sister. His mother had walked out years ago and contacted them once in a blue moon, breaking his father's heart and taking most of their savings. Bentley didn't call her "mother" anymore, though. Andrea sufficed.

They got by, somehow. His father worked a dead-beat job twenty minutes away at a car dealership, trying his hardest to sell less-than-quality vehicles. Cars were his passion and he had almost gone to school to fix and modify them, but Andrea had gotten pregnant and they needed all the money they had for their family. He never went back to school, even after Bentley had saved up for months and months to help pay off a semester of schooling. His father, Dawson Miller Junior, politely declined. When pressed, he replied, "Bentley...when Andrea left...she took not only my money, my heart, and my hair, so it seems, but she took my drive to pursue cars. I'm fine where I am. I'm fine looking after you and your sister."

It frustrated Bentley beyond belief, his father giving up and his mother ruining everything. Many times he had said he hated her, but God knew he didn't. Bentley couldn't hate anyone.

Bentley's job payed decently, $7.51 an hour, and he worked quiet often. But with three people, their combined income was still very low. They were late paying the bills half the time and behind on the latest fashion trends. At least they were alive and had a roof over their heads.

Bonnie didn't see it that way.

Bonnie was Bentley's younger sister. She was short and thin, resembling a toothpick in almost every way. Her tongue was sharp and she could go from accommodating to venomous in a minute flat. Frequently she complained about not having this or that. It took everything Bentley had not to slap her across the face. His father would pat his shoulder and tell him, "She's just a little girl, Bent. She'll grow up. Just be patient with her." Bentley didn't want to be patient, but he knew his father was right.

Plus, Bonnie was the type to take things personally. Not only that, she was very, very over the top. If he hit her lightly, she was likely to call the police on him. Bentley didn't have the will, nor the money, to deal with something like that. After years of custody battles and seeing divorce lawyers lounging in the living room, he was done with the "justice" system.

"I wish it could be like that," he said in a soft voice as he picked at a sticker advertising an old sale.

The old woman nodded her head a few times and told him, "Chin up, son. One day, you'll be able to run free like a mustang."

Bentley snorted. The old woman cocked a brow and eyed him suspiciously. "Oh--sorry. That was funny."

"How so?" She sounded somewhat annoyed. He wasn't sure if it was mock annoyance, or the real stuff.

"Mustang is a type of car," he replied, scrambling with his words so he could amend the situation quickly. When she nodded at him, looking at him like he wasn't totally there, he continued with, "My dad likes cars. He actually named me after a car--Bentley." He gestured to his name tag. "And my little sister is named after a Bonneville. I just thought it was...ironic..." He laughed dryly, hoping his explanation cleared the water.

Her smile returned and Bentley tried not to sigh from relief. "That is ironic. Well, Bentley...like I said, I'm sure your day will come. Have a good day." And with that, she walked to the back of the store, towards a middle-aged woman and a young boy.

Bentley murmured beneath his breath and closed his eyes. That was weird and kind of nerve-wracking. When he opened his eyes, they fluttered to the clock. Eight fifty two. Weird, but not pointless! He stood up straight and looked around the store before hitting the intercom button. "The time is now 8:52, and the store will be accommodating to vampires at nine. If you are uncomfortable with that, please bring your items to the front desk and I will ring them up. Thank you!" He had already made that announcement twice, like he did every time he worked until nine, but it was to warn the customers. Some of them fidgeted with their items, second-guessing if they really needed them. A few people shrugged their shoulders, while a few other put their clothes back and left. The rest looked at Bentley, smiled weakly (or not at all) and began towards him.

By the time he had finished ringing up the last customer, the sky was turning a dark, rich orange. The sun was just above the horizon, and it was nearly nine o'clock. The rapped his fingers against the register and watched the sky, his pulse raising as the sun disappeared more and more. When it was finally gone, the clock had struck nine. Only a few humans were left in the store, scattered around the store. The vampire customers would start arriving soon. Lea, the vampire girl, just lived down the street.

The AC turned on. In a few minutes, the store would become an ice box. He wrapped his arms around himself in preparation and returned to watching the clock.

At 9:12, his first vampire customer of the night walked in. The male was tall and built, with a headful of dark brown hair pushed to the left and tattoos spiraling up and down his exposed arms. He flashed a cheeky smile at Bentley and laughed as the human shrunk backwards. He smelt strongly of Axe, spicy and very masculine, and looked like the kind of guy who would lean against an expensive car, smoking a cigarette with sunglasses on, even if it was two in the morning.

He made Bentley feel inferior, and not just because he was a vampire. Bentley was tall and lanky with thick, shaggy strawberry blond hair. Because he swam for Bon Temps High School, his body was defined, but not nearly as much as the male vampire who had just entered. He looked like a shrimp compared to that guy. The vampire's teeth were sparkling white and mesmerizing, and his eyes were a smoldering brown. Bentley's teeth paled in comparison, and his eyes were a murky hazel. They sometimes reminded him of a mosaic window that had been tampered with as it dried.

He sighed softly and tried not to let his fear become even more evident. He just had three minutes left. Lea would be there soon. She would take over for him and he could get out.

"Please be on time, Lea," he whispered to himself.

From the back of the store, the male vampire laughed softly. Bentley swallowed hard.

To his dismay, 9:15 came around and Lea was no where in sight. He moved from behind his register and walked to the window, which showcased the busy street in front of the store. Lea's house was just a couple blocks away. He couldn't see her skipping to work like she usually did.

He returned to his station and shrank again. Every minute that passed without Lea walking in made his heart beat faster and faster. If he hadn't been so afraid of her fangs, Bentley might have yelled at her. Anxiously, he eyed the camera in the corner nearest him. It was focused on the register. He thought about dipping out, but he quickly squashed that thought. His manager would see him leaving without Lea taking his spot. Then he'd get fire.

He swallowed hard.

By 9:31, Bentley's heart was beating so quickly he was sure everyone, vampire or not, in the store could hear it. Where the hell was Lea? Fangs or no fangs, Bentley wanted to chew her out. Rip her head off or something. The blond pulled on his hair.

There were four vampires in the store already. The male from before, and now three females. They looked to be in their 20s, but only God knew how old they really were. They eyed him like cats and smiled like they knew something he didn't.

At 9:44, Bentley pulled out the Employee Log and searched for Lea's number. By 9:45 he had found it and was listening to the dial tone as the phone called out, waiting for someone to answer it. When someone did, Bentley opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Lea, herself. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, Bent! I overslept, I'm sorry! I'll be there are in ten. I'm so sorry!"

She sounded genuinely sorry. Bentley huffed. "It's okay," he lied. "Just, please hurry?"

"Roger that!" And she hung up.

Lea was fifteen minutes late, not ten. But Bentley decided to hold his tongue about the extra five minutes. She rushed in like a bat out of hell, her curly, dark red hair bouncing vivaciously. "I'm so sorry, Bent," she moaned. Together, they walked into the back room, Bentley a few steps behind her. Lea was a few inches shorter than him and was as curvy as a mountain road. And she was sweet, so sweet. She appeared to be nineteen, but was actually forty-five-years-old.

"Thank you for covering for me," she said, watching him clock out and clocking in quickly behind him. "I had a rough night yesterday and...yeah..."

He didn't know vampires could have "rough nights". Either way, it didn't matter. "It's fine. It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow." They nodded at each other and she thanked him again before he made his way to his locker. He removed his work shirt and his work shoes. Then, quickly, he shimmied into an old t-shirt and a beaten pair of trainers.

As he made his way towards the door, his work shirt and shoes in a backpack that was slung over his shoulders, he noticed that the store was packed. There were so many vampires--his stomach knotted up. A few of them stared and smiled. Some of them giggled. Some of them watched him with curious gazes, and he could have sworn that one of them licked their lips. He was determined not to see them, though. He marched to the front of the store and shouldered open the door.

The cool summer air swirled around him and calmed him down. He crossed the street, his eyes focused ahead and his hands gripping tightly on the arms of his backpack. He had survived work. Now all he needed to do was get home.

Usually when he got off, the sky was a little light still, even with the sun down. He could see his way perfectly and all of the cars around could see him, too. But now, it being so late (10:09 his watch confirmed), the sky was a dark blue and he was just a blob in the darkness. He gripped the arms of his backpack tighter. Why did he have to live so far away? And why hadn't he gone and taken the final portion of his driver's test? Bentley sighed and kept walking.

A few minutes into his walk, he felt eyes on the back of his head. Not the eyes of people in their cars, but the eyes of someone behind him. He checked over his shoulder a few times, only to find the sidewalk vacant besides himself. That should have been a good thing, but with vampires out like they were...and like they were...it felt like a horrible, terrible thing. He sped up and tried not to think about the possibility that someone was following him.

When he reached the little forest between the main road and his apartment complex, Bentley heard soft whistling. He stopped just before the thicket started and looked over his shoulder. Back on the sidewalk he had just left was a man. In the darkness he could only make out his silhouette. Tall, built; definitely a man. Human or vampire? He tensed up and entered the thicket quickly. Behind him, he heard laughter. Now he was scared.

He began running, dodging trees and bushes. Around him he could hear crickets chirping and small animals both waking up and falling asleep. Not to mention his labored breath. He could also hear something swiftly running, dodging trees and bushes just like Bentley, but for a different reason entirely.

At the tiny creek, he came face-to-face with the man following. Or, well, face-to-chest. Bentley collided with the man and crashed backwards. As he moaned with pain, the man before him laughed.

Oh shit, he thought. Holy mother-fucking shit.

"Aw, what's the matter?" the male asked, quirking his head to the side. Bentley looked up at him shyly, scooting backwards. It was the guy from the store. The one that intimidated him.

Holy mother-fucking shit.

"I...uh...uh..."

The vampire laughed again. He circled Bentley a few times. The mortal felt like a trapped, wounded animal. As the vampire walked around him again and again, Bentley tried not to be too noticeable as he looked around for a weapon. Nothing. Only grass and dirt. No sticks here.

Thirty or so feet away, a car zipped past. If Bentley could just fend the vampire off and get to the road, he could flag someone down and get out of this situation. If no one passed, then...Bentley was in trouble. The forest between his work and his home was right next to Fangtasia, the notorious vampire bar. He passed it on a daily basis and still got the chills from it. Now, his chest felt frozen. If he did manage to get away, but no other human was around, he was a goner.

"The street's pretty far from here." Damn. "Why don't you look up at me, hm? I was considerate enough to let you walk until now, so...you could show some gratitude." He went to brush back some of Bentley's hair. As the mortal boy jerked back, the vampire laughed. Such a dark laugh. Bentley swallowed hard.

"Yo...You don't have to do this. Fangtasia is just over there. You don't have to bite me, or nothin'. You can just go there and get someone willing." He sounded so dumb. Why would a vampire want someone willing when he had the tail of a frightened one beneath his shoe? "Isn't attacking humans against the law?"

The vampire clicked his tongue, like the old woman had. But hers was teasing. His was mocking. "Why would I do that? Taking blood always tastes better than having blood donated to you." He pulled Bentley to him by the collar of his t-shirt and took a deep breath. Bentley held his breath and closed his eyes tightly. "You smell like fear," he whispered, his voice light and poetic. Then he laughed and pulled Bentley to his feet.

Keep him talking. Kick him in the balls and run! Or...oh God, this sucks so bad...

Bentley felt the urge to vomit.

"If you're a good little boy, I'll let you live," he whispered, pushing Bentley against a tree. "You can choose as to what you'd rather 'live' as. Whether you'd like to be a weak...delicious mortal, or a strong, beautiful vampire." The vampire brought his hand down Bentley's t-shirt and to the band of the mortal's khakis.

When the vampire's fingertips were in Bentley's pants, Bentley screamed out and pushed the vampire away. Or, tried. He stumbled back a step or two and closed in on Bentley like nothing had ever happened. Bentley's head was forced upward as the vampire clamped down on his throat.

He clicked his tongue again. Bentley's eyes stung and his feet dangled in the air. "Looks like you're not going to be living. Period." His fangs were in Bentley's neck before the boy knew it. They stung when they entered, but otherwise they didn't hurt. It was the sucking that made him nauseated, and the fact that the vampire was going to not only kill him, but rape him in the process. He squirmed and the vampire laughed into Bentley's throat, his hand worming its way into the khaki pants it was previously denied access to.

He felt dirty and completely horrified and lightheaded. He was trying to pry away the cold hands that were squeezing his neck, but they just wouldn't give. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. Just a gurgle and a butchered sob.

Butchered. Bentley felt his eyes fill with tears. His eyes were closed so tightly that he saw stars on the back of his eyelids. He was going to die in the forest he had known for years, just a few minutes from his apartment complex. He was going to rot while the world went on. His father and sister would wonder where he was. The world would go on, but he would be missing.

Bentley didn't like that thought. Something in him bubbling up and gave him the strength to scream. Just once. Nothing changed, though. There was still a vampire touching him and killing him. He was still going to die.

His head hurt. He was getting cold and sleepy. So this was what dying felt like? Bentley shuddered.

Neither of them heard the stirring in the trees near the street. Neither of them saw the creature running towards them. Not until the vampire was pried off of Bentley and sent flying. The vampire crashed into a neighboring tree and Bentley slumped to the ground. Instinctively, he touched at his neck, but his vision was swimming so badly that he couldn't focus on his hand.

"There is a law that says feeding on humans against their will is forbidden. And there is a law against rape. Normally, I wouldn't give a shit, but you are right here. It looks suspicious on my part," a voice said. It was male. That was all Bentley could make out. He couldn't see anything clearly and he felt like conking out then and there. How much blood had he lost? What the hell saved him?

Bentley was forced on his feet. As soon as he was standing straight up, though, he toppled over again. The person who had picked him up grunted. "He's as good as dead," he moaned unhappily.

"Pity," a woman said sarcastically.

"He's not going to survive much longer."

"You could just let him die and then move the body. Or you could finish what's been started."

"Change him? I really, really don't feel like being buried tonight."

"It's your call, Sheriff."

The male groaned again. He slapped at Bentley's cheek and barked, "What is your name, human?"

"Bentley," the mortal croaked.

"Well, Bentley. It's a beautiful night to die, isn't it?"

Before he could protest, there were fangs in his neck again. His head began spinning wildly. In a couple of seconds, everything faded to black. His body went limp. The only thing keeping him up was the vampire retracting his teeth.

"Well, Pam," the vampire huffed, shuffling Bentley over his shoulder. "I guess we're going to the cemetery."

"Oh, goody. I get to ruin another pair of shoes." Pam huffed loudly. Together, Pam and the male vampire exited the forest and walked towards Fangtasia. Parked in the back was a black Charger. The rims were painted a shimmery maroon color. The windows were tinted almost as dark as the car, itself. The license plate read "F4NG5".

The male vampire chuckled.

Pam raised a brow. "What?"

"That never fails to amuse me," he mumbled, opening the car door and lying Bentley down.

"Anything to amuse you, Eric. Now, to which cemetery?"


	2. Chapter 2

After placing Bentley in the back seat, Eric climbed in next to him. He allowed Bentley's head to rest in his lap. There was dirt on the back of the mortal's head, and cold sweat from fear, Eric guessed, but it wasn't a big deal to Eric. He was about to get buried in the dirt. Making a fuss over a little dirt and sweat on him, now, would just be incredibly stupid.

The boy's face was pale and his expression was blank, but Eric knew he wasn't calm. He had been stalked, intimidated, and molested in one night. Not to mention fed on by two vampires. Who could be calm after that? He was probably so blank in the face because his body didn't know what to think, especially after being saved only to be bitten again. He was probably so out of it when Eric bit him that his mind just melted away as his consciousness did.

Eric made a mental note to find the vampire that bit him, first, and put him through the ringer. Since he had bit Bentley shortly after the other vampire, his taste had been on Bentley's skin. Plus, the cologne and deodorant he wore was nauseatingly strong. He wouldn't be hard to find.

"If you don't exchange blood soon, he's going to die," Pam said casually, speeding the Charger up so they made the yellow light next to Fangtasia. Eric hadn't known they were out of the parking lot. He had been observing Bentley's face and plotting. "Unless that's what you're wanting?"

The vampire huffed softly and brought his wrist to his mouth. After his canines had extended, he sat them on top of his wrist, sighed, and bought them across the skin there. Blood began seeping up from his skin as a stinging sensation fluttered through his limb. He pushed the sensation out of his mind and began tapping Bentley's cheek with his free hand. At first, the tapping was light. When the human didn't respond, though, Eric began smacking him. The pale flesh on Bentley's right cheek was undoubtedly stinging. If this didn't wake him up, Eric had waited too long.

"Open your eyes," Eric commanded, still smacking at Bentley's cheek. The mortal stirred very lightly, his haphazard breath hitching every odd time his cheek was struck.

"Open your mouth," Eric said, his voice slightly relieved. When the human complied, he put his wrist to Bentley's slightly ajar lips. At first, Eric's blood just dripped in. Bentley wasn't doing anything. Frustrated, Eric sat the boy up, propping his head against Eric's right knee. "Suck. Or you're going to die, and my wound is doing to close up. I know you can hear me. I won't do this again."

Bentley's hazel eyes fluttered open. He made eye contact with Eric for a second, his eyes cloudy and distant, like there was a slippery film covering them that prevented him from seeing clearly, before complying. He sucked lightly at first, unsure of what was going on, but as the second passed and Bon Temps flashed around them, Pam speeding without a doubt, he gained more fervor.

When Eric pulled back his wrist, his skin was red and smeared with blood. He wiped his wrist on his pants leg dismissively and watched as Bentley blinked, slightly more aware of his surroundings now. His face was still blank, but thoughts were slowly getting processed. "Take it easy. Just lie there. You'll be able to sleep soon," Eric muttered.

It took a few minutes to get to Bon Temps local cemetery. When they finally arrived, Pam parked beneath a bowing Willow. "Shovels are in the trunk," she told him as she opened her door.

"Why do you have shovels in the trunk?" Eric smirked.

"Because there's always something happening in this town. Might as well be prepared." She gave him a wicked smile and went to the back of her car.

Eric lifted Bentley out of the car with ease. He cradled the human in his arms as if he were a small child. Behind him, he heard Pam gathering two shovels. After she shut the trunk door, he lead her into the cemetery, keen on finding a spot away from wandering eyes. Beneath an oak tree in the far left corner of the cemetery was the spot Eric chose. He laid down Bentley and went to work digging.

"It's a shame that he had to get himself attacked so early in the night," Pam muttered, stepping on the back of her shovel. Effortlessly she removed the dirt she had just disturbed and dumped it beside her feet. There was already dirt in her shoes. She grumbled unhappily. "You're going to be underground, bored under your mind, until you fall asleep."

Eric laughed and dumped a shovelful in his own pile. It was a shame, but he had to do it. He couldn't let Bentley die. He was attacked too close to Fangtasia. The human world that disliked the vampires could use that to attack the vampires that frequented it.

If Bentley had been attacked somewhere else, Eric wouldn't have cared.

But it was his duty, especially with him being sheriff. So he channeled his frustration on digging.

The hole was almost seven feet long and three and a half feet across. And it was shallow, only about two feet deep. Since they weren't burying him, or Eric, it wasn't necessary to make it seven or eight feet deep, seeing as both Eric and Bentley were rather thin and they were going to dig their way out the next nightfall.

Bentley was laid in first, in a way that was uncharacteristically ginger for Eric.

Pam watched, a bemused expression on her face.

"Bring the car around tomorrow, around this time. I'm going to try and calm him down, teach him a little of the ropes...then we'll go back to Fangtasia and forget this ever happened," Eric instructed and climbed down the shallow, makeshift grave. The earth was both cold and warm around him. He made himself as comfortable as he could be under the circumstances before nodding to Pam.

She grabbed her shovel. "How can we forget this ever happened? We'll have a brat on our hands," she sighed. A shovelful of dirt was deposited on Eric's feet. She smirked a little. "You are going to tend to him, aren't you? Extensively, I mean. Like Bill and...Janice?"

"Jessica," Eric amended.

"Yes, like Bill and Jessica. You could always command him away. You are his maker." And he was Pam's, as well. She didn't like the thought of sharing Eric with this kid, and would try her hardest to get him to send Bentley on his way.

"He will stay. At least until he's a little older." How old was the kid, now? He looked to be eighteen-years-old, but what did Eric know? He had looked the same way for hundreds of years. He could make out the differences between forty-year-olds and teenagers, but getting exact numbers was beyond him. "Keep shoveling, Pam."

Without another word, she did as she was told. Her face was a scowl, though. That changed as she began covering Eric's face. "Sleep well," she muttered.

Eric resisted the urge to flick her off. Bentley's face was sheltered in the crook of Eric's arm. His breath was slowing. Eventually it stopped. When that happened, Eric told himself to follow suit.

- - -

Bentley woke up to droplets of water pelting his skin. The one that woke him dropped on in his ear. It slithered down, amazingly cold, and shook him out of his sleep.

He wished he had stayed asleep.

Where the hell was he? And how did he get there? Was he in some tomb or something? He shifted about uncomfortably, gingerly at first. But as panic welled up in him, his actions grew wild and frightened. He was...in the ground? And it was raining. The raindrops were seeping through the dirt and getting him wet.

Beside him, someone stirred.

He had never moved so fast in his life. He jumped upward, dirt tumbling off of his person. Cold air and rain greeted him. "Where the hell am I?" he shrieked. His voice was shrill and his head hurt. Not to mention he was unbearably hungry.

"Calm, Bentley," a voice said. It was soothing and compelling. It got Bentley to stand still. "Don't be too loud."

"Who are you? And where are we?" Bentley's voice was lower now, slightly calmer, as well, but he was still frightened. All he could remember was being attacked in the forest...

He choked on a sob and muttered, "No...no, no, no, no. This can't be happening."

"It happened, it is happening...calm down. No use crying over spilled milk." Beside him now stood Eric. He was dusting dirt off of his person and muttering to himself about being dirty and wet.

It enraged him. "Spilled milk? Wh...I'm fucking dead!" Bentley pulled at his hair and paced, eying the hole he had just climbed out of. That was his grave. "Oh my fucking God!"

"Hold your tongue," Eric said sharply.

Bentley sobbed loudly, but otherwise stopped yelling. Why was this happening? He had no intention of following orders from this...this murderer, but he submitted either way.

"You're undead. Big difference." The smile offered made Bentley's stomach churn. "You were attacked near Fangtasia. I got the vampire off you, but by the time I had gotten there, you were almost dead. So I finished you off and changed you. I also ruined my outfit. You're welcome."

Eric's nonchalant words made Bentley sob. He stared at his hands. They were covered in dirt, but otherwise they looked the same. Did his face look any different? Had he taken on that eerie pale skin that vampires coined? Did his face scrunch up, like the vampires in Buffy? He felt along his face and discovered that nothing felt out of the ordinary. Except for there was blood on his face. Where the hell did that come from? Nothing hurt, so why was he bleeding?

"You were crying in frustration. Vampires cry blood," Eric mumbled with a shrug of his shoulders. The rain had made his gelled-back dirty-blond hair flat and dark. His shirt clung to him and dripped dirty water. "You get used to it."

Vampires cry blood. He was crying blood.

"Oh, God.." he whimpered.

"Kid, stop. What's been done has been done. Be grateful I changed you. You could be in the ground, permanently." When Eric gestured to the hole in the ground, Bentley grew cold all over. "We're going to go back to Fangtasia as soon as Pam 're hungry, are you not?"

"Starving," he replied, slightly defeated.

The grin Eric gave him was less than comforting. It was teasing, mocking. "You want blood."

Bentley blinked wildly. He knew vampires drank blood, but...

"Yes. You crave blood. You need it to survive." Eric was unbelievably smug. He pushed some of his wet hair from his eyes and grinned even wider. "You can't fight it. You've been changed, Bentley. You are vampire now. And I am your maker.."

Maker? Bentley didn't even know his name, or remember telling him his own, for that matter. Bentley felt a little uncomfortable, but the feeling was almost unnoticeable. He was so frightened by being a vampire now that little else mattered. "Vampire," he repeated. "I'm a vampire now."

Eric laughed softly. There was something soft about it, like he felt sympathetic about how dumbstruck Bentley appeared. Like a scared dog in the middle of a thunderstorm.

In the distance, headlights appeared. "Here she is. Come on, Bentley. Time to go."

Bentley followed, but he felt numb. He was vampire now. The creature he had feared most...and he was one. He kept following his "maker". He didn't feel like he was the one walking, though. He felt like he was floating in the sky, watching this from up above. This couldn't be real. It couldn't.

He got into the car without a word. Eric talked to Pam, but Bentley couldn't hear them. His eyes were blank and so was his mind. He stared at the back of Eric's chair without actually seeing it. What would his dad say? What about Bonnie? He'd have to quit school and feed on people to live. His stomach tightened.

At least he'd get to leave that damn department store...

But then, dad and Bonnie would have to survive on only dad's check...

Bentley cradled his head in his hands.

"He's taking it...uh..." Pam laughed quietly, looking from the windshield wipers to Eric periodically. "I think your little bat is in shock."

Eric looked over his should. Very much in shock. His mouth was slightly ajar and his focus was entirely elsewhere. He laughed, as well, but his was sympathetic. Almost. "It's just knew to him. Mortals in the modern world seem to have a harder time readjusting."

When they reached Fangtasia, Eric had to peel Bentley off the seat. The young vampire was still very much dumbstruck. At least his mouth was almost closed.

They walked into the back of the club. The music from the front was inaudible, but it made the walls vibrate. Eric sat Bentley down on one of the couches and turned to Pam. "Get him something from my stash," he told her.

She nodded almost sourly and walked off towards Eric's office. Eric's stash was composed of blood donated or taken from people all over the world. She had never fed on any of it before, just brought some of it to Eric. Jealousy made her chest throb. Without much thought, she entered the code and opened the refrigerated safe where he kept his stash. She randomly chose a football of blood. With her heel, she closed the vault again.

In the back room, Eric was talking to Bentley. "Pam's going to warm you some blood." There was no response. Slightly frustrated, Eric shook one of the boy's shoulders. He just swayed back and forth like a rag doll. "C'mon. It's not that bad. I could have just let you die."

Bentley whined a little and looked over at him. "Why didn't you?" he asked.

"You were too close to Fangtasia," he replied. The honesty in his words made Bentley fidget a little. "If you had been father away, I wouldn't have cared. But you being so close...it implicated my club. Finding a mortal in the forest near a well-known vampire club isn't good. It involves a lot of cops, and a lot of bad press. So i had to." The words came out like his action was the simplest thing he had ever done, and the best for vampire kind. Was he some kind of hot-shot vampire. He had said Fangtasia was his. "Plus, it's never a bad thing to add another vampire into the mix."

There was a beeping in the corner of the room, and then the slamming of a door. Pam was walking over with a large beer mug in her hand. But beer wasn't inside it. Bentley could see through the clear glass. It was blood. Dark and thick. It was warm, too. Even if the glass had been dark and obscure, he would have smelt it. His stomach flipped wildly. Something primitive had waken up and was now thrashing in his gut. He wanted it.

"Ow," he muttered, startled. His fangs had extended and cut his lip.

Eric laughed at him and shook his head.

"Here," Pam said coldly, holding out the mug.

Bentley took it, avoiding her gaze. He let it sit on his knee and stared at it, trying to conquer the cravings he had for the blood.

He sat there for a few minutes before Pam huffed and walked away, her heels clicking against the floor. Eric laughed again. "You've got some will there. But, drink it. You're going to get cranky and weak. I need to start training you." He leaned back in his seat and gestured to the cup. "If you don't do it willingly, I'll make you. Makers have that kind of power over their fledglings."

There was that word again. "Maker...that means you're my...?"

"That means I changed you, yeah." He dipped his head softly.

"I don't even know your name," he whispered, exhausted. This was all too much.

"Eric. Eric Northman. Now, drink. As your maker, I command you."

The mug gravitated to his lips and the blood slithered down his throat. Bentley tensed, foreseeing himself gagging on the liquid. But nothing of that sort happened. His eyes opened and both hands gripped the mug. He threw his head back and drank faster than he had even done in his life.

"Hungry little devil," was mumbled proudly.

Bentley had been called that before. But it had never applied as well as it had before today. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hands after savagely licking his lips. He was still hungry, too. The blood was...he couldn't describe it. Thick. Delicious. Rich. Sweet. Bitter.

Different.

Eric clapped his hand down on his Bentley's knee. "How does that feel?"

"I'm not sure. I feel better, but I'm still hungry. I also feel disgusted with what I am."

Another laugh. "You get over that." He stood and stretched. Bentley hadn't really looked at him until then. Eric was...awing. He was giant, for starters, with drying sandy hair and muscles that were broad as daylight, even under clothes. If he had been mortal, Bentley could have seen Eric working out in the sun with everyone's eyes on him.

"Now what?" Bentley asked quietly.

"I'm going to get someone to make arrangements for you in the back. See if we have an extra coffin, or something."

He tried his hardest to stifle a laugh. They actually slept in coffins? He vocalized his question and Eric shrugged his shoulder.

"They're more like deluxe boxes. But, yeah. We can sleep in coffins. We can sleep in beds, too. As long as the room we're in has no windows, we can sleep anywhere."

Bentley followed Eric towards the door leading into the dancing area. He watched as Eric called someone over, an employee Bentley guessed, and ordered them to set another coffin up in the back. They nodded and went straight to it. Then he turned around and, with a grin, said, "And so it begins."


	3. Chapter 3

Bentley could recall Eric telling him that he needed to be trained, but Bentley never could have pictured what the elder vampire had in store for him. If he was already a vampire, albeit young, did he have do to any training? Bentley was lithe and somewhat strong, and that before he had been changed. Didn't these things just...better on their own? Like wine, shouldn't his physical abilities ripen as he got older?

He told Eric that after Eric's employee reported to Eric, confirming that they had an extra coffin. The other just laughed as he led him down a lengthy hallway. At the end of the hallway was a large storm door, the same gray-blue color as steel. It looked as if it used to be the front door of a home. Where decorative glass used to be, was sheet metal, melted to the frame-work. The door alone made Bentley shiver.

Inside of the room, it resembled something like a jail house GYM. The cinder block walls were off-white and dingy, and the tiles were scuffed here and there and stained with blood. The room, itself, smelt of old sweat and bleach.

"This probably my favorite room here," Eric said, closing the door with his heel.

"Why?" Bentley mused, looking around. There was a set of pull-up bars and push-up handles in the far left corner, the metal shining in the naked fluorescent lights. On the other side of the room was a bench press, and around the machine were a bunch of dumbbells. In the middle of the room hung a lone punching bag, the leather material of the bag a deep maroon with black stitching. The leather directly in front of Bentley was forced back from being punched repeatedly. A fancy treadmill was situated on the right side of the door. Beside it sat an equally fancy exercise bike, and beside that a dummy human figure. It was much like the punching bag; it even had the indentation in the abs from being hit over and over. In the final corner was a huge, multi-purpose work-out cage and a large rack with towels and what appeared to be extra work-out clothes.

As he deliberated on his answer, Eric removed his shirt and slipped off his dress shoes. He removed his dress pants, as well, and shoved them into a cubby hole. There was no shame in his face or about his person. Eric Northman was proud of his body and was unafraid to show it to anyone. So what if his new fledgling saw his boxers or the outline of his ass?

When Eric began lowering his pants, Bentley's throat closed up. His fangs extended and poked downwards into his lips. Bentley closed his eyes when Eric's pants met his ankles. He was drawn to the older man and it frightened him. He had never been drawn to another man in that sense before. It had always only been women. He prayed that Eric hadn't noticed the tension in his body.

If Eric had, he hadn't informed Bentley.

He pulled on a pair of semi-tight sweat pants and fixed the drawstring before leaning against the rack to retrieve a pair of broken-in trainers. While Eric put them on, tying them tightly, Bentley felt a little better about the situation of his own shoes. "I can work out my aggression without have to see the Magister. It works wonders for my ego," Eric replied with a small smile. "The walls are sound proofed, so no one can hear anything that goes on." As he said the last part, the smile curved upward wickedly.

Bentley gulped. He was going to get demolished.

"Come over here and change your clothes," the elder male instructed. He listened as Bentley complied and laughed as the other got stage-fright. He turned around to look at him. "Unless you're free-balling, I could care less if I saw you in your boxer shorts." Eric smirked for a moment and laughed. His smiles were both warm and cold at the same time, like he was fighting himself. "Are you?"

Could vampires blush? Bentley felt heat in his cheeks, but when Eric said nothing about it, he guessed they couldn't. With unsteady hands he removed his shirt, his eyes cast at the floor.

Well, this was nerve-wracking. Next to Eric, Bentley looked like...well, a boy. He was a few inches shy of Eric's grand height and was thinner by quite a lot. His muscles weren't as deeply defined. Eric's reminded him of the Grand Canyon. Deep. Chiseled. Permanent. Despite the marble color, Bentley knew that his body was once as warm. Bentley's stomach was flat and his muscles were there, but it looked more like his chest went from his breast bone to the end of his member like a board. Flat, but taut.

Eric didn't seem to mind. He smiled as he walked towards the punching bag.

As soon as he had found a pair that fit his body well and tied them tightly, Bentley met Eric at the punching bag. The work-out pants fit him well in the thighs, but they were a little long in the legs. As a result, his hip bones showed above the band. He tied the band over itself a few times to fix that.

"Let's see what you've got," Eric purred. It was like he was challenging Bentley. He pulled away from the bag and gestured for him to hit it first.

Fighting wasn't Bentley's specialty. It was endurance. He could swim and swim without feeling even a touch of exhaustion. Come to think of it, Bentley had never really fought anyone. He had gotten into little things at school, but almost all of them had ended with him shoving the person against a locker. That usually squashed everything.

Despite his lack of experience, Bentley, crudely, knew how to hit. Make a fist and use the face of your knuckles.

When his hand collided, the bag swung backwards. With a surprised and triumphant smile, he backed up and let Eric have his shot.

Eric made the bag swing back and shudder wildly, like a pillar of a building about to give in. His smug smile made Bentley grind his teeth. He knew this would happen. Bentley didn't know how old Eric was, hell, he had just found out his name, but Bentley guessed he was a good deal older, and a great deal stronger.

Even with him being considerably under Eric in rank, Bentley could smell a competition when it was near.

- - -

As a human, Bentley had been to the GYM before. When he joined the swim team, he had to go more often, mainly to use their Olympic-sized pool. But in all of his days of being human and working out, he had never ached so badly. His muscles seemed to cramp, release, and then cramp tenfold. His skin was coated with sweat. Oddly enough, it was both hot and cold. Just like the smile Eric was giving him.

He was wiping at his neck with a white towel and sitting on the end of the bench-press. He was leaning over casually, but Bentley knew that he could jump up and attack at any moment if needed be. He was so strong that it was insane, and his endurance for everything awed Bentley. He hoped that he would get to Eric's level.

"You tired yet?" Eric asked. He cracked his knuckles before rising.

Bentley was leaning against the towel rack with his own towel draped over his face. He pulled it off, glared at Eric, and groaned, "I've been tired since the beginning. Is this all you do? Like all day--I mean, all night."

"I'm usually out working my club, or feeding, or doing business outside. I only get to work out in here every once in a while." His voice was slightly quieter than normal. "If you think I was good today, you should see me when I work out every day for a month."

The thought made Bentley twitch. He could almost see the pent-up strength glowing around Eric, like an aura.

They sat in silence for a while, Eric dabbing at his neck and abs with his towel and Bentley trying to calm his muscles. The quiet allowed Bentley to think. Were they going to work out like this every day? Was Bentley going to stay with him for the rest of his life? That got him thinking about his sister and his father.

"Eric?" he asked.

Eric looked at him with a raised brow.

"Am I going to be able to see my family again?" He began wringing the towel as he stared at the floor. If Eric said no, he didn't know how he was going to react.

"I don't recommend it, no." His voice was gentler than it had been. Like he was sad for Bentley. He rose to his feet and threw his towel over his shoulder. "Some families...don't receive the information well. They freak out and try to kill you."

His father and Bonnie would never do that. They loved him and would never do anything to hurt him in any way. They would be sad at first, but then they would get over it. They wouldn't try to stake him. "And, uh. Eric?"

Eric shot him an irritated look. "What?"

"About vampires...what's really a myth and what's real? I mean, they--I mean, we can sleep in coffins. What about the stakes and the garlic and the holy water?" They were freakishly strong and drank blood, Bentley knew, so he didn't need to ask that.

"Holy water and crosses don't do anything but annoy us. Have you ever had water thrown on you over and over?" He laughed bitterly. "Stakes can kill us. Fire can kill us. Decapitation can kill us. Silver can kill us."

Wasn't silver for werewolves? The younger male didn't press it. "And the sun?"

"This isn't Twilight. The sun will burn you." He nodded and gestured for Bentley to rise. "And we normally sleep when the sun is up. If you don't, you get what we call the bleeds. In short, you just kind of...bleed from everywhere. Simple enough."

"Simple enough," Bentley repeated.

Eric led them out of the GYM room and back into the room that Bentley had originally fed in. Behind the private bar there, he rummaged through the refrigerator and grabbed two Tru Bloods and put them in the microwave. He leaned back against the cabinet, his muscles taut. "Now, we'll feed, and then I'll talk you around. Show you Bon Temps."

"I've lived in Bon Temps since I was little," Bentley scoffed.

With a smile that made his eyes twinkle darkly, Eric countered with, "You may have lived here since you were a young mortal, but you've never seen it as a vampire." At that moment, the microwave beeped. Eric took out the Tru Bloods and began for Bentley. He handed one to Bentley and sat down opposite him. With a wink, he began drinking.

Bentley smelt the Tru Blood and wrinkled his nose. Genetically engineered blood. Not the real thing. But it was better than killing someone or drinking stashed blood. He wrinkled his nose again and took a drink.

- - -

**Author's Note: **That kind of sucked. I'm sorry! It'll get better, though. (:


End file.
